


But She's Your Best Friend

by Seductresses_Temple



Series: Filling the Pansmione Void [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Black Hermione Granger, Cheating, Coming Out, Cunnilingus, Explicit Consent, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Girls Kissing, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), One Shot, Pining, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, first time (sorta)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-20 11:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seductresses_Temple/pseuds/Seductresses_Temple
Summary: "Hermione's moans were like a symphonic choir: rich, harmonious, beautiful, but Pansy needed more. They were crossing so many lines that couldn't be redrawn. She needed consent, needed to know that Hermione craved this just as deeply as she did."





	1. Wine and Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> I am so desperate for Pansmione content that I have just decided to fuck off and create my own whenever I have the spare time. So, here's a little one shot I created on a whim. The title is a play off the film "But I'm a Cheerleader" because its the first queer film I ever watched were I actually saw two women kiss.

Pansy Parkinson was a terrible person. It wasn’t because she’d been a schoolyard bully during her youth. It wasn’t because she had been raised with terrible, problematic Pure Blood beliefs. It wasn’t because she nearly threw Harry Potter to the proverbial wolves nearly a decade ago. No, Pansy Parkinson was a terrible person because under  _ no  _ circumstances should she be rejoicing in the news of the fallout between Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. Hermione was close to  _ tears,  _ for Merlin’s sake! Sure, they were probably angry tears but that wasn’t the  _ point!  _ What type of friend was she?

 

_ The kind that’s pathetically in love with the girl currently struggling not to cry in your flat,  _ her brain supplied helpfully. 

 

Sighing internally, Pansy turned her mind back toward the task at hand. Comforting Hermione. 

 

“There, there, darling,” she poured Hermione a small glass of Elvish wine. Hermione wasn’t the biggest drinker -not like Pansy- but Pansy felt the situation more than called for it. A 2am Floo required wine. It had to be written in the muggle Bible somewhere. Pansy was sure of it. “Tell me everything,,” she murmured. tucking her feet underneath as she joined Hermione on the couch. 

 

“It was horrible.” Hermione took the glass, fingers coiling around the stem in a vice grip. Pansy was half worried she’d break it if she clutched much harder but she knew better than to comment. Glassy brown eyes turned to look at her, fire blazing beneath the tears. “I caught him in bed with  _ Lavender _ ,” the name was spit out like acid on her tongue. 

 

Pansy vaguely remembered Lavender Brown. More so, she vaguely remembered Ron having his tongue stuffed down her throat most of...what had it been? Fifth year? Sixth year? She was pretty sure it was sixth. She nodded in recognition, sliding her hand across the couch to gently stroke Hermione’s knee, silently urging her to continue. 

 

“We had this massive row. I think all of Ottery St Catchpole heard it. I couldn’t be arsed with a Silencing Charm” Hermione took a few sips of her wine, her body going rigid as if she needed to steel herself against the words to come. Silence settled between them. It made Pansy anxious but she fought to keep still. She listened to the seconds pass by with the faint  _ tick  _ of the wall clock.“…she’s pregnant.” Hermione’s voice had dipped into the softest whisper, so soft, Pansy had to lean in close to hear. 

 

Ron Weasley had an affair and got Lavender Brown up the duff. Usually Pansy would be squealing, ready to run off immediately to Grimmauld Place to share such a juicy bit of gossip with Draco. But she couldn’t. This was gossip concerning  _ Hermione _ . 

 

“Do you know that he,” Hermione took a huge swallow from her wine, grimacing at the way the sweet red seemed to suck all the moisture from her tongue. She needed more alcohol in her system to even explain such nonsense to herself, let alone Pansy. “He had the unmitigated  _ gall _ to make this  _ my  _ fault? He told me I pushed him away, he said. I drove him to it, he said. All because I never want to be...intimate anymore...because I don’t want to have kids.” Hermione took another large swallow of wine at that, practically draining her glass. “Children are the furthest thing from my mind after Rose d-” Hermione pressed her lush pink lips into a tight line, setting the wine glass on the coffee table and pushing it aside, refusing to speak. 

 

Pansy frowned. She knew that face all too well.

 

“Hermione,” Pansy scooted forward but Hermione shook her head, sending coily brown curls bouncing all around her head. “Love,” Pansy whispered, setting her glass down as well so she could cradle the other woman’s face in her hands. Tears welled in Hermione’s eye but all she did was worry her bottom lip between her teeth, refusing to shed them. They had been through this more times than Pansy could count, especially in the past few months. With a bit of effort, she turned Hermione’s face to hers, staring at her. 

 

“You know what Mind Healer Wright said. You need to say it. You need to accept your reality, no matter how hard it is, darling.” 

 

The tears did come then. It broke Pansy’s heart. 

 

Pansy knew how hard it had been for Hermione, losing her and Ron’s little girl Rose. It had been such a terrible accident though Pansy helping to soldier Hermione through it had been the cornerstone of their tentative friendship. It had all happened so fast. One minute little Rosie had been skating with her family. The next minute the ice had gave away...it had all happened so fast. Pansy knew Hermione still blamed herself. She’d taken to seeing a Mind Healer to deal with the loss, the grief, the depression...the guilt. Half the time Hermione couldn’t outright say that Rose had died...she’d either skirt around the word all together or stop speaking entirely. 

 

“I can’t think about having children right now, not after Rose….died,” Hermione whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as a small sob hiccuped out of her throat. Hermione didn’t cry often, it wasn’t in her nature. She was brave, fierce, even downright cruel when she needed to be, and though she logically knew the importance and purpose of crying, she couldn’t bring herself to do it more often than not. However, when she did manage it, it was usually the type of crying that made one feel as if their soul was being washed clean. 

 

Pansy could only nod, drawing her friend closer and rubbing her back as she cried. She and Hermione had come such a long way. 

 

It had all started because of Harry and Draco. After Hogwarts’ restoration had been completed, all the seventh years had been invited back to finish their education as eighth years. While people like Harry, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Hermione, and Neville Longbottom had all received varying Orders of Merlin and -technically speaking- didn’t  _ need  _ to return to Hogwarts, people like Draco and Pansy had no choice. Draco, Pansy, and other Slytherins whose families had been aligned to the Dark Lord had been legally required to return. It was either Hogwarts or Azkaban which had been a no-brainer. Most of them had to keep their heads down and pray to every deity known to man that they scored high on their N.E.W.T.S if they had any hope of finding employment post-war. For people that had played on the right side of the war, the extra year of schooling was a chance to be a kid for once. For people like Pansy and Draco, it was a way for them to be monitored and contained. Still, better to be under the watchful eye of Headmistress McGonagall than the soul-sucking face of a Dementor. 

 

Draco and Harry had spent the year “making amends,” as they called it. Apparently making amends involved lots of late night fucking in the Room of Requirement.

 

Pansy was still pretty sure it started off as hate sex until the two bumbling baboons realized they’d just been channeling years worth of unresolved sexual tension, but neither of them would admit it. 

 

Regardless of how it truly started, their budding relationship had brought Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Blaise together. Ron and Blaise bonded immediately over chess. Pansy and Hermione, shockingly, buried the hatched and bonded over a shared love of books. 

 

It had been difficult. 

 

The ideologies of her parents had been so deeply ingrained in Pansy that she and Hermione fought at nearly every turn. But they endured, for the boys’ sake. Harry and Draco had a kind of love none of them wanted to spoil. They could get along if only for them. 

 

Pansy had been the one to find a rare book on memory charms in her family’s library to help Hermione find her parents. 

 

When Pansy had confessed to her parents that she was attracted to women and had no intention of marrying the Pure Blood boy they’d picked for her, Hermione had been the one to hold her and piece her back together when she’d been disowned. 

 

When Pansy had started her fashion line, Hermione had been the one sending her encouraging owls nearly every hour. 

 

When Hermione quit her job at the Ministry despite so many people thinking it was a bad career choice to trade the stability of a Ministry job for an Apprenticeship at the Spellcraft Institute, Pansy had supported her decision one hundred percent. 

 

When Rose died, Pansy slept on the couch at the Burrow because she refused to leave Hermione’s side. 

 

Pansy wished she could pinpoint the when, or how, or why, she fell in love with Hermione Granger but it was impossible. All she knew was that Hermione had become a  _ force  _ in her life. One Pansy never wanted to be without even though she knew the pining was unhealthy, especially since Hermione was married. But she could be her friend. If nothing else, she could be the best friend Hermione could ask for so long as it meant she could have Hermione in her life in some capacity.  

 

“He doesn’t deserve you,” the words slipped out of Pansy’s mouth before she could think about what she was saying. 

 

“No, I don’t suppose he does,” Hermione sighed, pulling back and wiping at her face with her sleeve. She picked up her wand from the coffee table and cast a Tempus charm, her brown cheeks flushing darkly when she noticed the time. It was nearing on three in the morning. “Oh, oh Pansy, I’m so sorry. I just stormed in- I didn’t- I should have-” Pansy chuckled, leaning over and kissing Hermione’s forehead. It was one of the few intimate gestures they shared openly. Forehead kisses. Cheek kisses. It would be the only way Pansy could ever have her lips against Hermione’s skin and she savoured it every chance she got. Hermione was absolutely precious when she got embarrassed. 

 

“You were upset, think nothing of it. Come on, you’re staying here tonight and I won’t take no for an answer. You can’t go back to that house. Not tonight.” 

 

Hermione looked to the fireplace, staring at the embers intently before nodding. She knew Pansy was right. There was no telling what she would do if she saw Ron anytime soon. Plus, she’d already barged in on one friend, it didn’t make any sense to go running to Harry and Draco despite all the extra rooms they had. 

 

“You can take my bed and I’ll sleep out here.”

 

“I can’t just barge in on you at such an ungodly hour  _ and  _ take your bed!”

 

“You’re my guest, Granger, it’s fine.”

 

“That means you should listen to me,  _ Parkinson. _ ”

 

“Just take the bloody bed,” Pansy groaned, throwing a spare pair of pyjamas at Hermione when they’d made it into her bedroom. 

 

Hermione laughed, catching them and sticking out her tongue childishly. “Why don’t we share then? It isn’t like you of all people would mind sharing a bed with a woman!”

 

Pansy froze, half crouched over her wardrobe. The thought of Hermione lying in bed beside her...how many times had she envisioned just that? She clutched onto a pyjama top, swallowing thickly as her brain scrambled for some sort of witty retort. When she came up empty handed she heard Hermione inhale sharply behind her. 

 

“T-that was so insensitive of me. I’m sorry, Pansy. Of course I didn’t mean to imply that just because you’re a lesbian that you wouldn’t...I’ll take the couch.” When Pansy finally turned around it was to see Hermione’s soft brown skin had taken that deliciously flushed hue again. It took everything in her not to pounce her right then and there. Oh this sweet, sweet, daft, brilliant woman was going to be the death of her. Pansy wanted nothing more than to tell her that sleeping beside her was literally a dream come true...but that would require admitting she was in love with her only female friend and that was something Pansy just wouldn’t do. 

 

“Oh please, Granger, of all the the things that have been said about my sexual orientation that’s by far the most mild. Do calm your tits as the kids say these days. I’m going to go change,” she rolled her eyes as Hermione continued to blush and brushed past her lightly on her wait to the bathroom. 

 

“Alright, listen you, unscrupulous heathen,” Pansy whispered to reflection the moment she’d locked the bathroom door behind her. “Draco aside, that is your best friend out there and, if you’d be so kind, you would do well to remember you don’t have many of those. You will not do anything untoward. She is still a married woman. She came to you because she was upset. While your feelings are valid and can’t be helped, you need to understand that you and Hermione is not a possibility. She is your friend. She is your friend. She is your friend.” Pansy continued the whispered mantra until she was dressed for bed and felt fully chaistied.

 

“I nearly forgot,” Pansy reached into her bedside table for a silk scar and handed it over to Hermione who took it with an odd little smile on her face. Their fingertips brushed as she took it and Pansy immediately began second guessing everything she’d told herself in the bathroom as she watched Hermione tie her hair up in a scar that -ironically- was littered with pansies on a field of gold. Pansy hadn’t realized that when she bought it but it certainly felt like a kick in the teeth in retrospect. She didn’t know how she was going to make it to morning sleeping next to someone as gorgeous as Hermione. Just the sight of her camisole straps sliding down her arms leaving her shoulders bare and neck exposed now that her hair was tied back was a tease that left Pansy shifting uncomfortably as she sat down against her pillows. 

 

“You know Ron has never once done that for me? He still doesn’t quite understand  _ why  _ I have to wrap my hair at night.” Pansy rolled her eyes. She didn’t see what there was to understand. Hermione was black. There were certain things she had to do to keep her hair looking so bouncy and coily and bloody fucking perfect. One of those things so happened to be wrapping it up at night so it wouldn’t snag in the pillowcase. It wasn’t hard to understand.

 

“Well, that’s what you have friends for. Now, time for some well deserved rest,” Pansy turned off the light and snuggled down underneath the covers, lying flat on her back as she stared at the ceiling. Perhaps if she stared at the ceiling instead of turning toward Hermione, she could make it until morning. 

 

Or not. 

 

Slender arms wrapped around her waist and within seconds, Pansy had a very soft, very warm Hermione Granger nestled against her side. She bit her lip, grateful Hermione couldn’t see her in the dark because she was fairly certain her pale skin had darkened to tomato red. 

 

“It’s times like this I’m glad I never took Ron’s last name,” Hermione muttered, nuzzling Pansy’s collar bone in an attempt to get comfortable. 

 

“Way to look on the bright side, Granger.” Fuck it all. Pansy wrapped her arm around Hermione, drawing lazy patterns against her shoulder. 

 

“What am I going to do, Pansy? No Weasley has ever gotten divorced before, not for centuries now, but I can’t stay with him…” Hermione lifted up just enough to look into Pansy’s eyes in the dark. Neither one of them could see each other that well just yet but their faces were mere inches apart and Hermione could feel Pansy staring at her in the dark. 

 

“You’re going to divorce the bastard and continue being brilliant,” Pansy whispered, putting gentle pressure on Hermione’s shoulder until the other woman laid down again. Hermione fit perfectly against her and it was something Pansy tried hard not to think about. It all felt so right but Pansy knew it was wrong. Hermione’s life was crumbling around her. Pansy had no right to be thinking about how good it felt to have the smaller woman in her arms. She had no right to be so intoxicated with the way Hermione always smelled of parchment, earl grey tea, and peppermint oil. 

 

“I think I can manage that,” Hermione whispered back, falling asleep quickly and easily curled up in the safety of Pansy’s arms. 

 

Pansy fell asleep pretending that just until morning, Hermione was hers. It was a dream she had often. 


	2. The Magic Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is finally here! I hope you all enjoy it.

“I figured the least I could do after barging in on you was make you breakfast,” Pansy was gobsmacked. As if getting the best night’s sleep she’d had in weeks wasn’t enough, she’d woken up to the tantalizing scent of bacon and eggs. As if that weren’t already Heaven enough, she also got to watch the sight of Hermione Granger shuffling around her kitchen in a camisole and shorts, cooking sais breakfast as a ‘thank you.’ Ronald Weasley had to be one of the most foolish men she’d ever met to jeopardize losing a woman like Hermione.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Pansy grinned, grabbing plates for the two of them and mugs so she could at least serve the tea Hermione had made.

“I wanted to,” Hermione insisted. “Harry and Draco sent an owl hours ago and I couldn’t fall back asleep. I thought about going home to deal with Ron but, in all honesty, I’d much rather stay as far away from him as possible right now. Consider this a ‘thanks for putting me up and letting me hide away in your flat’ breakfast.”

“You aren’t hiding. You’re cooling off,” Pansy said simply. It was true, Hermione was not the type of person that ran off and hid when things got tough. She had gone with Harry when he left to find the Dark Lord’s horcruxes. She had went alone to go find her parents. No, Pansy was smart enough, or at the very least Slytherin enough to see Hermione’s actions for precisely what they were. Ron would find himself at the end of a nasty hex or two if Hermione saw him any time soon, Pansy was sure of it. For all her Gryffindor bravery and Ravenclaw courage, there was some Slytherin in that woman. Hermione could be cruel when she wanted to be. She kept Rita Skeeter, Busybody Bitch Extraordinaire, trapped in her animagus form inside of a glass jar for Circe’s sake. That was for coming after _Harry_. Pansy could only imagine the havoc Hermione would unleash on a cheating husband.

Pansy grinned around her mug. She was more than happy to let Hermione stay for as long as she wanted to. She could stay forever so long as Pansy was concerned but she kept that bit to herself. “What did the boys want?” she asked instead.

“To check on me. Apparently I barged in on you and Ron rushed to Harry, it’s a good thing I stayed here last night instead of venturing to Grimmauld Place. I don’t think Harry would have taken kindly to me hexing his best mate’s bollocks off on his doorstep.”

Pansy snickered, “no, I suppose not, darling. Best for us girls to stick together for a bit then.” She set the table as Hermione brough the eggs and bacon over “You can stay for as long as you feel you need.” Even if she selfishly had ulterior motives, Pansy didn’t want Hermione to think she was kicking her out.

Hermione seemed content to take her up on the offer. They ate in companionable silence, munching on their eggs and bacon and sipping their tea. Pansy washed the dishes after since Hermione was nice enough to cook and they took turns showering. When the sky decided to downpour halfway through Hermione’s shower they decided to change into fresh pyjamas and spend the day lounging around the flat. They mostly read. Hermione of course poured over the many books Pansy had on spell crafting while Pansy took to reading a book about magical creatures. It had been her favorite subject at Hogwarts even if she’d been forbidden from showing her enthusiasm back then. She had hoped if she did well enough on her N.E.W.T.S that she’d be able to snag an apprenticeship at a small unicorn sanctuary not far from Hogwarts but it...hadn’t been in the cards...not with her father being a known Death Eater. It was just one of many job avenues that had been crushed for her due to her parents involvement in the war.  

 

__________________________

 

“Want to watch a movie?” Pansy asked well after they’d eaten dinner. They’d spent most of the day reading and talking but the rain had slowed to a steady drizzle and sitting in front of the telly before bed sounded heavenly.

“Sure, why not? I’m frustrated with this passage I’m reading anyhow. Perhaps it’s best if I put it aside for a while and come back to it,” Hermione stood up from the armchair in the far corner of Pansy’s living room and stretched her back with a quiet, contented moan, the hem of her shirt rising up just high enough to reveal her belly button.

“Right, movie time,” Pansy hurried into her bedroom to avoid staring. She shuffled through her collection of DVDs and popped in the first film she landed on.

 Fifteen minutes in she deeply regretted putting in _But I’m a Cheerleader._ Pansy made sure to make a mental note to strangle Draco next time she saw him. He had gotten her the film her first birthday after she’d come out to her parents with absolutely no context whatsoever. It figured that fate would have her lying in bed, curled up with her crush, watching a movie where the main character is trying to come to terms with her lesbianism. She was going to strangle Draco...Harry would just have to go back to hating her.

“Pansy?”

“Hm?”

The movie was nearly over and the rain had begun to get heavy again, making Pansy incredibly sleepy. It didn’t help that Hermione was curled into her side, head resting on her chest while she gently twirled her fingers around a deep chocolate brown curl. She felt as though she could fall asleep that way, Hermione in her arms, the weather and the outside world locked away by the security of her tiny, cozy flat.

“What’s it like being with a woman?”

Pansy’s eyes snapped open. Well, she was certainly awake now. Her head swiveling around to look at Hermione in the blue-tinged glow from the telly. “Excuse me?” she managed after five agonizing prolonged seconds of silence.

Hermione blushed, putting her head down as she fiddled with the blanket between them. “Never mind,it’s probably insensitive of me to discuss this with you. Just because you’re the only lesbian I know doesn’t mean I should basically go prying into your personal life.”

Pansy felt as if the air was being sucked out of her lungs by an invisible source. Hermione wanted to know about her experiences with women? Why? Her mouth suddenly felt dry and the room far too hot. Her expression must have looked positively horrid because Hermione took one look at her and groaned, promptly hurried out of the bed and slammed the door shut to her bathroom.

Dumbfounded, Pansy could only stare after her.

“Get it together,” Pansy whispered to herself as she quickly slipped out of bed. She wanted to tell herself that she needed to get her shit together because graduated and nearly thirty or not, she was _still_ the Queen of Slytherin House and had an imagine to maintain. She didn’t have time for more of her sparkling inner monologue though. Hermione was here. Asking questions. Her curiosity burning bright and Pansy would be damned if she turned her away just because she couldn’t “keep it in her pants” as the Muggles said. Regardless of her feelings for Hermione, her friend was curious and looking to her for answers. She couldn’t very well turn her away.

Taking a deep breath, she sank down to the floor next to the bathroom door, examining her lacquered nails as if they were the most interesting things she’d ever laid witness to. “Oh honestly, Granger, you just caught me by surprise is all. Not every day there’s something _you_ don’t know about, now is there?” she prayed her voice didn’t sound nearly as shaky as she felt. She cleared her throat and pressed on. “What did you mean exactly? Physically, romantically, sexually? You’ll really have to be more specific, lovey.” She could hear Hermione moving around, most likely pacing.

As the silence stretched on, Pansy did her best not to fidget. Though she hadn’t spoken to her parents in nearly three years, the old family mantras were still drilled into her head. Parkinsons did not fidget. They also didn’t sit on floors but Pansy knew all too well that everything her parents had ever taught her flew out the window the day she’d fallen in love with her best friend.

“Sexually, I mean. I suppose what I want to know is...is there more...well, are the mechanics of it..” Hermione called from the other side of the door. Pansy could practically hear the cringe in her voice. There was a long suffering sigh, as if Hermione was frustrated by her own actions and Pansy could hear her sliding down the opposite side of the wall, coming down to the floor with a groan and an audible little ‘ _thump.’_

“How does lesbian sex _work_?” she blurted out in one big breath.

Pansy, to her credit, tried very hard not to laugh. She knew Hermione was most likely on the other side of the door glaring at the spot she presumed Pansy to be sitting, silently daring her to laugh with that shrewd, pointed glare usually reserved for Harry, Draco, or Ron when they did something monumentally illogical or bordering illegal. “By and large it works the same as anything you heterosexuals do except there isn’t any physical cock mucking things up,” Pansy knew Hermione could hear her smirking and it only made her smirk more.

Her comment was followed by more silence. Hermione, no doubt, was thinking some more. There were probably so many questions buzzing in that big brain of hers that she didn’t know what to ask next. All Pansy could do was sit and wait. She felt as though she were opening Pandora’s Box...she and Hermione didn’t talk about things like this because there was too much temptation for Pansy. It would be so easy to be her usual self and toe the line of playfully flirting like she did with all her friends regardless of sex or gender and flirting as if she wanted that person in her bed.

“Was there something more specific you wanted to know?” she coaxed, the silence driving her absolutely batty.  

“Yes…”

“Are you going to ask me some time while I’m young? You know I require at least eight solid hours of beauty sleep a night, darling,” Pansy joked. She knew full and well she would sit on her cold, hard floor until the end of time if Hermione required it of her. Ugh, when had she turned into such a bleeding heart? It was absolutely revolting and if it wouldn’t ruin their friendship to say so, she’d give Hermione a piece of her mind about it.  

“I had read somewhere that there was more...foreplay involved, more kissing and such,” Hermione admitted.

Pansy turned toward the door and quirked an eyebrow at it. The fact that Hermione had done any type of reading on the ‘mechanics’ of lesbian sex both surprised her but didn’t. She knew that when she was struggling to come out that Hermione had read a plethora of books on sexuality. However, knowing the other woman as intimately as she did, there was something in Hermione’s tone which suggested she’d found out that tidbit from some personal reading.

“Foreplay isn’t exclusive to just lesbian sex,” she said slowly, settling back against the wall and staring at her bed. Her mind drifted to the many woman who’d slept there over the years...quite a few of them happening to be brown skinned, bushy haired bookworms who always paled in comparison to a fantasy of the real thing.

"Foreplay just depends on the mood, well, it depends on a lot of things really.”

“Like what?” Pansy knew that voice. Hermione’s always sounded like a kid at Christmas whenever she was hungry for knowledge.

“Am I having ‘ _the talk_ ’ with you, Granger? Good grief, woman, you’re nearly _thirty!_ ”

Hermione giggled at that, high and soft. “My parents were Dentists! You’ve met them, they aren’t the type of people that I would have these types of talks with!”

 The thought of Hermione’s respectable, adorably-prudish parents sitting down to answer their daughter’s random questions about lesbian sex had Pansy in a heap on the floor, laughing until her lungs felt close to collapsing. “Alright. Fine, fair enough, I suppose I’ve no choice but to be the one to answer your silly questions,” she managed once she was upright. “To answer your question...foreplay depends on the mood, sometimes the foreplay can be almost as good as the sex and sometimes you really just want your partner to throw you to the bed and fuck you senseless. Other times...well, a lot of the time, really, foreplay just depends on your partner. Some people are shite at it, honestly, and some people don’t think it’s _important_ which is absolute bollocks especially for women. For gay men I suppose it's a bit different, they don’t need to be _wet,_ they have lube for that. For women though...sure, you could use lube but if you’re doing your job _right_ you don’t _need_ i-”

“What do you mean you don’t need it?” Hermione interrupted quickly.

Pansy really wished Hermione would come out of the bathroom. Even though it was probably the worst idea in the world for Pansy’s mental health, she felt like they needed to be having this conversation face-to-face. “Well, the whole point of foreplay, outside of it feeling incredible and sparking some oh, so delicious sexual tension, is that it helps a woman,” she cleared her throat, making a weird gesture with her hands as she struggled for the right words “ready to go, as it were.”

If Hermione fall silent one more time, Pansy was sure she’d wind up screaming.

“Hermione...may I ask you something?”

Hermione was silent for just a beat longer before sighing, “I suppose it’s only fair.”

“Has…” Pansy toyed with the hem of her shirt. She knew her question had the potential to bring the entire conversation to a stand still, to even make Hermione contemplate leaving. “Have you and Ron never...talked about your...sexual needs?”

Pansy had to worry her bottom lip to keep from screaming as the entire flat seemed to be plunged into a thick, impenetrable silence. She was just about to crawl back into bed and wish she had a Time Turner when the bathroom door slowly creaked open.

Hermione stood leaning in the door frame, smiling down at her with flushed cheeks. “It took Ron nearly four years to find out I liked him and four years to propose after the fact, suffice it to say that the topic never seemed to have come up.” She reached out a hand to haul Pansy to her feet and they got comfortable on the bed again.

They didn’t talk for a while but being able to see Hermione’s face made the silence close to bearable. Pansy got comfortable against the headboard, peeking over at Hermione periodically wondering if the lack of conversation meant the topic had died or just been put on pause. They did that a lot, she realized, putting conversations on pause. It wasn’t that they had issues talking to one another. She and Hermione could talk about practically anything. Pansy wagered it was that they were both pants at communication. Pansy because she’d been raised in a Pure Blood family where feelings and open communication about them were frowned upon. Hermione because feelings were often illogical and weren’t always easy to dissect and make sense of. They always managed to find the right words...eventually.

“Ron was always...proficient,” Hermione said suddenly, startling Pansy out of her inner musings. “I would never say that I was particularly dissatisfied, we got pregnant easily enough, but I couldn’t help always thinking that...maybe there was...more.”

Proficient. Pansy could have gone her entire life without knowing that Ronald Billius Weasley was ‘proficient’ in bed. The thought made her cringe. Ron was a decent enough bloke once you got to know him but even with her sexuality taking a hard and far lean away from men, didn’t mean she wanted to ever invision Ron, of all people, having sex. Let alone with Hermione.

“He was never really one for foreplay, not even when we were teenagers and had nothing but adrenaline fueled energy because of the war. He had this habit of just kissing me a few times and then,” Hermione frowned, gliding her right hand smoothly over her left palm.

Pansy could only nod. She’d had sex with plenty of women like that, usually women who had just recently come out or who were closeted and had never had sex with a woman before. A few kisses in and suddenly she’d be naked with Frannie First-Time trying to finger her and failing miserably. Pansy gave...a lot, not that she minded. “Extensive foreplay is something you usually get from someone that’s...competent...at least competent enough to care about giving pleasure just as much as receiving it enough to put their pride aside and ask questions. Asking questions during sex is important but most people don’t because it makes them feel silly or like they don’t know what they’re doing. Good foreplay comes from someone prideful enough to know they have to set aside their pride, if that makes sense.”

 Hermione stared at her for a moment, her chocolate brown eyes seeming to reach deep into Pansy’s soul. She had no idea what the other woman was thinking but whatever it was, she hoped Hermione never stopped. She could feel herself getting wet pinned underneath such an intense gaze. “One of your exes warned me about you. Did I ever tell you that?” Hermione shifted until she was resting beside Pansy on the headboard, their shoulders touching.

“Warned you? When? Who?” Pansy didn’t have very many women she considered actual ‘exes.’ She had given up dating a while ago, deeming it unfair. She was in love with Hermione, until she got over her feelings for her best friend, no other woman stood a chance and it just wasn’t fair.

“Simone,” the distaste was clear in Hermione’s voice and Pansy couldn’t help but giggle.

None of the Simone stories had been good ones and Hermione had heard them all. Simone had been gorgeous; tall, plump, dazzling eyes, feather soft brown hair, and a killer sense of fashion. Sex with her was so outrageously raunchy and sinful Pansy half-felt like she needed to visit a Muggle church afterward. Simone had also been highly insecure. When Pansy had refused to introduce Simone to her friends after a month and a half of dating, things slid downhill, and they slid downhill extraordinarily quick. It didn’t matter how many times Pansy explained that she simply had a rule about not inviting her girlfriend to meet her friends until they had been dating three months. Simone always thought she was lying.

The night Pansy had come home to her entire flat in _shambles_ had been the night that she not only broke it off with Simone but also gotten a restraining order.

“What did the lovely bint have to say about me and why to you of all people?” Pansy inquired. She didn’t like bringing up Simone if she could help it.

“It was the night you came out to your parents and we went to that little muggle club. You were dancing with some girl and I was keeping an eye on you from the second floor, you were so sloshed. Simone saw me, saw me watching you and she felt the need to introduce herself and warn me that you would be ‘the best fuck and worst mistake of my life, stellar in bed but fucked in the head,’ I believe were her exact words.”

Pansy snorted. “She’s one to talk.” She remembered that night well enough but the good thing about wizarding restraining orders is that along with physically keeping the person away from you and unable to do you harm, it also cast something similar to Disillusionment Charm on the person, making them invisible to the person who’d filed for the order. She’d had no idea Simone had been there that night. She’d been upset, freshly disowned by her father and verbally ripped to shreds by her mother, and had dragged Hermione to a muggle club to drink and dance and -if she was lucky- fuck the night away. Six shots in and she’d spent most of the night grinding on some petite blonde with the poutiest, most kissable lips Pansy had ever seen.

“It was the first time I had ever thought about sex with anyone other than Ron,” Hermione admitted quietly, staring out the window. “Here was this woman openly telling me that my friend was apparently a champion in bed and then there was Ron, proficient Ron...though Lavender certainly seems to think he’s more than proficient if her shrieking was anything to go by.”

Ah yes, Lavender, the reason Hermione was here. Pansy sighed, pulling Hermione into her side and hugging her close. “Lavender Brown is a bint and I’d gladly Crucio her or something if it would cheer you up. I’m friends with Harry Potter, you know, I’m sure I could get away with it if he pulled a few strings.”

Hermione threw her head back and laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. It made Pansy smile with an odd sense of pride to hear it, to be the cause of such a joyous noise.

“I’m filing for divorce in the morning. I guess I just wanted to know what a newly single divorcee could hope to look forward to, and well, I’ve always had these...thoughts.”

“Thoughts?” Pansy could have cursed herself for how breathless she sounded. She nibbled at her bottom lip as if it would somehow halt the shiver rolling down her spine. It didn’t.

Hermione turned to look at her again, that same intense, unrelenting gaze. “Thoughts about other women. Thoughts about kissing other women. Thoughts about _you._ ”

Pansy quivered. So many years of pent up longing felt like it was unraveling like yarn inside of her. Her self restraint was crumbling and she felt helpless to stop it. She felt her fingertips gliding over Hermione’s hip, caressing softly. “Do you want to kiss me, Hermione?” her voice was a silky purr right in the other woman’s ear. She heard Hermione’s breath hitch in her throat and closed her eyes to relish in the sound.

“ _Yes_ ,” Pansy knew it was wrong. Hermione was still technically married but she asked and Hermione said yes. What happened between Hermione and Ron wasn’t her fault. In truth, if she thought hard about it, she may have been able to convince herself that it wasn’t even entirely Ron’s fault either. All Pansy knew was something she had hoped for, wished for, dreamed about, craved for so long was right on the cusp of being hers. She turned Hermione’s face toward hers, searching her eyes for some sign of apprehension or confusion. “You sure?’ she murmured, their lips practically ghosting over each other. She knew the moment could come crumbling down around them at any moment. At the end of the day, Hermione was her best friend before she was anything else. The second she said ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or ‘don’t’ would be the second Pansy retreated to her corner like the good little Slytherin girl she’d never been for anyone else.

She watched as Hermione’s gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips repeatedly, her own eyes darkening with barely restrained want. “Yes,” it was all Pansy needed to hear. She leaned forward and swiped her tongue over Hermione’s lower lip teasingly, nipping it for the briefest second -earning her a delicious little gasp- before she pulled the brunette into her and kissed her deeply. Hermione lips tasted so sweet, like the sugar from her tea and the subtle hint of mint from the balm she wore religiously. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of and more. Pansy couldn’t help the small moan that escaped her but she had enough common sense to pull away when it did and enough decency to blush.

If she weren’t so stunned, she probably would have made a joke. Quick-witted Slytherin that she was, she could have teased her and asked if the kiss had been proficient but all Pansy could do was gaze into Hermione’s eyes. She’d just kissed her _best friend._

“Again,” the tiny command made her pause.

Hermione’s gaze was unwavering. She looked as if she could devour Pansy, or perhaps more accurately, that she wanted Pansy to devour her. They stared at each other, neither of them filling the miniscule amount of space between them. Pansy wanted nothing more than to rip off Hermione’s -technically her own- clothes and fuck her until she had made Hermione moan in nearly a dozen different ways. They were reaching into uncharted and dangerous territory. Pansy wasn’t sure she could just have a one-night stand with Hermione. It would mean too much. She didn’t want to be ‘one and done.’ “You have no idea what you’re toying with,” she murmured, stroking Hermione’s jaw tenderly. How many years had she been chasing after this woman who had been oh so unobtainable? Now she was here, in Pansy’s bed, practically begging, demanding, for Merlin only knew what. How far would either of them allow this to go? How far could they go without Hermione waking up in the morning full of shame and regret from their little experiment?

“You aren’t an experiment, Pansy,” Hermione whispered as if reading her mind. She did that a fair amount. “I’ve wanted you for...since that night, at the club after Simone said what she did I- started watching you - dancing with that blonde - grinding and touching and...” she trailed off, shifting around a little until she was on her knees, facing Pansy. “I was so jealous,” Hermione admitted quietly “and I couldn’t understand why. I kept trying to convince myself it was just because you were ignoring me but I ignored it because I knew you were processing but then she _touched you…”_

Pansy remembered that too. She hadn’t worn any panties that night and at some point her dance partner’s hand wandered between her legs. It sobered Pansy up quickly. It didn’t matter how much she had drank or whether she had panties on or not. She hadn’t given any form of consent. If Hermione hadn’t been there to throw a drink in the woman’s face and keep Pansy from reaching for her wand, there was no telling the sort of trouble she could have gotten herself into.

“I wanted to touch you, hold you, make you feel better” Hermione murmured, burying her face in the crook of Pansy’s neck, inhaling the scent. It sent another shiver down Pansy’s spine. Hermione had feelings for her all this time. It seemed too good to be true.

“I felt horrible about it for so long, Pansy. I had Ron and you’re my best friend, how dare I ever think of you in that light,” Hermione was stroking her hair and nothing had ever felt so good to Pansy in all her life.

“I tried to convince myself it was just a crush and that I’d get over it. Ron and I had Rose and for a while I was so busy it became easier to deal with but it never really went away,” Hermione’s hands were roaming over her body, just her fingertips brushing against her bare skin, taking careful strides to stay above the belt. Hermione wasn’t touching her anywhere that she hadn’t before in the past decade. Her arms, face, hair, stomach, but it felt so much...more now. Pansy’s nerves felt on edge in the most delightful way. Hermione’s touch was like fire and all Pansy craved was to be burned. “Then I caught Ron with Lavender and I couldn’t deny that he and I had been over for a long time, it was just that neither of us had the Gryffindor courage to say so...and all these years I’ve thought back on that night, still wanting to be the one touching you.”

“You can touch me,” she whispered, it was probably the most honest thing Pansy had ever said in her entire life. Hermione stared at her, licking her lips as her hand slid easily past the waistband of Pansy’s shorts, brushing over the lace hem of her underwear before slipping underneath it.

“Oh fuck,” Pansy whispered breathlessly, Hermione’s nimble fingers rolling over her clit in slow, deliberate circles. It was driving Pansy absolutely mad. Pansy always joked that she was quite like a man when she masturbated. Men had a “quick wank” and she was just as fast. She never saw the point in going slow until it was Hermione setting the pace. It was fucking torture.

“You’re wet,” Hermione commented as if she weren’t expecting it. As if she had no clue the effect that she had on the raven haired witch she currently had at her mercy. “I haven’t done anything,” she added.

“You exist,” Pansy muttered, rolling her hips into Hermione’s fingers with a soft moan as she laid down properly on the bed “you’re very proficient at existing.” They both laughed at that, Pansy’s laughter turning into an airy moan when she felt Hermione slip a finger inside of her.

“Cheeky bint,” she growled, grabbing Hermione by the front of her shirt and pulling her down into a searing kiss. She had always imagined what Hermione’s lips would look like puffy and swollen from a good snog. She wrapped her other arm around the brunette’s neck, moaning softly as she rocked against Hermione’s gentle, tentative thrusts. She wanted to scream for her to go harder, faster, but fear of the moment being over far too quickly made her all too content with Hermione setting the pace. She swiped her tongue over Hermione’s bottom lip, begging for entrance, and moaning when Hermione opened up for her. She was so sweet, so sweet and Pansy felt as though she couldn’t get enough. The moan Hermione let out when Pansy’s tongue swirled around hers was absolutely sinful. Perfect.

When Hermione slid another finger past her drenched walls, Pansy couldn’t help but snap her hips to meet her halfway, picking up the pace. It felt too good. She just wanted Hermione to make her cum. She was going to go mad if she kept teasing her. “Crook your fingers a bit, darling,” she instructed between nipping and sucking at a fresh love bite she’d made on Hermione’s neck. “I’m so close,” she goaded “make me come, Hermione,” she whispered in the brunette’s ear hotly, moving Hermione’s hand slightly when she’d crooked her fingers and shuddering when they hooked on to her _spot._

“If you move from that spot, I will hex you so fast it will make your ancestors dizzy,” Pansy warned. Hermione shut her up by moving her fingers in a controlled, come-hither gesture, massaging the delicate flesh until Pansy was writhing beneath her.

“S-shit,” Pansy gripped onto Hermione’s harm hard enough to bruise, burying her face in the other woman’s hair as her back arched off the bed, her orgasm rushing over her like a wave. “Hermione,” she whined, hips bucking and legs trembling as she settled back into the bed, breathing heavily.

“That was-” Hermione withdrew her hand, words seeming to fail the usually brainy woman. She looked around for her wand absently, intending to cast a quick Scourgify.

“Fucking brilliant,” Pansy muttered, gripping Hermione’s wrist and swirling her tongue over her fingers before sucking them into her mouth. She licked them clean and gently shoved Hermione back into the mattress and straddling her hips.

“You were fucking brilliant, darling,” she assured, kissing her way up Hermione’s neck “no woman has ever teased me like that.”

“Was it really alright?” Hermione moaned, tilting her head to the side to give her better access as she wrapped her arms around Pansy’s neck.

“Merlin, _yes._ Can I touch you?” she nipped at Hermione’s throat.

“Yes,” how breathy Hermione’s voice had gotten was downright obscene and unholy. Pansy wondered how wet she was, wondered if she’d be able to feel it, taste it. Did Hermione even fully comprehend just how insane she could drive a person?

“You sure?”

“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that.”

“It’s important,” Pansy leaned in close, running her tongue over the shell of Hermione’s ear with a soft, breathy moan “hasn’t anyone ever taught you that ‘yes’ is the magic word, darling?”

Hermione’s back arched off the bed slightly, biting her bottom lip as she turned to stare directly in Pansy’s eyes. “Yes,” it was needy and demanding and absolutely perfect. Smirking, Pansy grabbed her wand off the nightstand and Vanished their pyjamas with a nonverbal spell. Hermione Granger naked and wanting in her bed was the most beautiful sight Pansy had seen all day.

“I can’t believe you were jealous that night,” Pansy ran her hands up Hermione’s legs slowly, pausing at her knees with a lifted eyebrow. Hermione nodded and half spread- half allowed her legs to be pried apart, allowing Pansy to settle in between them.

 “Can’t you see that the only woman I want is you?” she didn’t allow Hermione any time to respond before kissing her again. She felt so selfish. It was Hermione’s first time with a woman. She should be making it all soft and special but she was a Slytherin and had been pining for the woman beneath her for well over two years at the absolute least. Her brain couldn’t fathom the word ‘soft.’ She moaned into the kiss and it was unintentionally her undoing. It seemed to spur Hermione on and before she knew it, Hermione was deepening the kiss. She opened her mouth to allow Pansy’s eager tongue inside and taste her, swirling her tongue over Pansy’s as she shyly tried to mimic the unrelenting, hungry swipe of a tongue much more skilled than her own with a subdued moan. It was such a delicious, addictive little sound.

“Feel free to moan as loud as you want, darling,” Pansy encouraged when her lungs demanded oxygen. She took the opportunity to litter Hermione’s jaw with kisses before trailing down to her neck, licking, nibbling, and sucking on the taut flesh until Hermione was restless and writhing beneath her, her neck a masterpiece of love bites that barely showed against her skin but Pansy smirked, smug and satisfied, knowing Hermione would be able to _feel_ them. Before she could let her brain start to psychoanalyze whether Hermione would wind up regretting them, Pansy swirling her tongue over a hard brown nipple and sucked it into her mouth, rolling the other one between her thumb and forefinger slowly and delighting in all the quiet gasps and moans that spilled continuously from Hermione’s mouth as if she couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. It was like music to Pansy. All she wanted was more.

She trailed hot, open mouthed kisses all the way down Hermione’s stomach. There were few things sexier than watching a woman’s stomach flutter just moment’s before Pansy put her tongue to good use. Knowing that it was Hermione made it all the more alluring. She was drenched and waiting, fists screwed up in the sheets as Pansy kissed and nipped at her inner thighs, getting closer and closer. “Pansy,” Hermione sounded so broken and needy, Pansy almost felt bad for teasing her so thoroughly. Almost but not quite, the brunette had teased Pansy just as thoroughly. Hermione's moans were like a symphonic choir: rich, harmonious, beautiful, but Pansy needed more. They were crossing so many lines that couldn't be redrawn. She needed consent, needed to know that Hermione craved this just as deeply as she did.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” she whispered, her fingertips gliding effortlessly over the slick wetness, spreading Hermione’s lips open for the briefest of moments. The sight of her so wet and willing would have brought Pansy to her knees if she weren’t already on them. She wanted nothing more than to dive her tongue inside but she was still willing and ready to give Hermione an out if she wanted one.

“Pansy, please...m-make me come,” smirking, Pansy leaned down, swirled her tongue gently over Hermione’s clit lightly. Quivering thighs caught the sides of her face for a moment before they relaxed and fell to the bed leaving Pansy free to suck the sensitive flesh into her mouth, broadening her tongue and lapping at it hungrily until Hermione’s hands were clutching her hair, keeping her locked in place.

“Pansy,” Hermione panted her name, rocking her hips lightly against her tongue, hips bucking every few seconds as Pansy experimented with how much pressure she put behind her tongue. The sound of Hermione unraveling, getting louder and louder was the seconds passed had Pansy ready to come all over again. Her jaw ached but she refused to move, a little pain was more than worth bringing Hermione over the brink.

" _Come for me, Granger,”_ Pansy thought to herself, hooking her arms around Hermione’s thighs and sucking on her clit just hard enough to send her over the edge but soft enough not to risk over-stimulating her.

Hermione stilled, every muscle in her thighs seeming to go into overdrive. She nearly ripped Pansy’s hair out as she came but she wouldn’t dare to complain. Even though the angle was awkward with Hermione’s back arched off the bed, Pansy looked up at her. She had always pictured the brunette to be a screamer but this was so much better. The way her jaw dropped open in a silent scream and her body seemed to lock up as she rode out her orgasm was positively heavenly.

“O-oh, Pansy, I’m so sorry,” Hermione whispered, immediately letting go of the vice grip she had on Pansy’s hair as if she hadn’t realized she’d grabbed it in the first place.

“S’alright,lovey,” Pansy whispered, shimmying out from between Hermione’s legs so she could look at her properly. The moment she did, she knew she was fucked. Looking down at Hermione, panting and smiling from ear-to-ear, Pansy knew that Hermione was it. It was either this glorious, brilliant woman in her bed or no one at all and it made her heart wrench with longing.

They’d probably just fucked up their friendship forever.

“I’m tired,” Hermione whispered, tugging at Pansy’s arm until she laid down and held her.

“Rest up, lovey,” Pansy murmured, pulling the blanket over them both and trying to pretend like everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't wrote fem-slash in so long I feel like I'm horrible at it but by and large, I'm quite happy with how this chapter turned out. If there are any typos or fuck ups feel free to let me know so I can fix them. I didn't feel like bothering my beta reader for a one-shot when he's got a lot of personal shit going on.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has had it with Hermione's shite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy I could burst. This is the first time I have ever finished a multi-chapter work. Usually my depression becomes so crippling that I wind up abandoning my fics or deleting them all together. I'm so proud of having actually finished this even though its very short.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” Hermione was startled by the sound of Ron’s voice. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes. 

 

“No,” she admitted. Between them sat their divorce papers, signed by Hermione, unsigned by Ron, meticulously poured over by both Hermione’s lawyer, Ron’s lawyer, and a Gringott’s Goblin. She had never imagined their relationship would come to this. Not after all those years of awkward fumbling around hormones and keeping Harry alive each year, not after everything they’d gone through out on the open road hunting for horcruxes, not after the war, and everything they’d endured in between and after. Hermione had always loved Ron, thought he’d be her ‘ever after’ as cliche and illogical as it may have been. 

 

It all felt so terribly bittersweet. Their marriage was imploding yet it somehow felt right, perhaps even long past due. Hermione liked to think of it as the final pages of a very long, good book. Everyone knew now. Of course Harry, Draco, and Pansy had been the first to know, but the entire Weasley family knew now too. The rest of their friends knew. An official, joint statement had been sent in to the  _ Daily Prophet  _ to dispel any rumors that were sure to arise. Hermione had even moved out already, into a tiny little flat not too far from the Spellcraft Institute...not far from Pansy. Just thinking about Pansy made Hermione’s stomach twist with guilt. She hadn’t seen Pansy since the night she’d made her see stars and fireworks behind her eyes. The night Pansy’s lips and tongue and fingers had done things to her that no one else could...

 

Three months.

 

Hermione hadn’t seen Pansy in three months. 

 

She liked to tell herself it was because of the divorce. She was busy; moving had been hell, drafting up the divorce papers had been even worse, and heading off the story of Lavender’s pregnancy before Rita Skeeter dug her ghastly claws into it was...an unimaginable pain. It had all been hard and time consuming but Hermione could have made the time to floo or fire call or send an owl, something, anything. 

 

What was she supposed to say, anyhow? She’d had sex with her best friend. She’d been so highly inappropriate she could barely stand to look herself in the mirror let alone send Pansy an owl. She was getting a divorce, it wasn’t exactly the most opportune time to go confessing a love she’d kept secret even from herself. She barely understood how deep her feelings for Pansy ran and she’d already mucked up the entire thing. She wasn’t even sure if there was a  _ thing  _ to muck up. 

 

“I never meant to hurt you, ‘Mione, you’ve gotta know that, yeah?” Ron’s voice cut through her thoughts. 

 

“I know, Ronald.” She truly did. It wasn’t in Ron’s nature to intentionally hurt anyone, well, unless it was Draco but only when he absolutely deserved it. 

 

They had been drifting apart for years. Losing Rose had only made matters worse and neither of them talked about it the way they should have, neither of them handled the situation well. Their bond was frayed and as angry as some piece of Hermione wanted to be with her soon-to-be-ex-husband, a larger part of her was nearly grateful that he’d finally just severed it. He’d broken her trust but not their bond, if that made any sense. She doubted it did. Hermione was learning slowly but surely that very few things in love every truly make sense. She still loved Ron, not as a husband or a partner anymore, but there was a large piece of Hermione that would always be that small bushy haired girl who unknowingly made two of the best friends a girl could ever hope for. Ron and Harry were precious to her in a way she seldom understood. She didn’t need to understand it, only accept it as the blessing it was. She and Ron...they could be friends again...sometime after all the dust settled. In time, they could all go out for drinks at the Leaky and no one would bat an eye; Hermione, Draco, Harry, Ron...and Pansy...hopefully.  

“I hope by the time Christmas comes around that you’d maybe feel comfortable coming by the Burrow. I’m sure mum’d skin me alive if you never came ‘round again,” Ron was scratching his name onto the divorce papers, the entire scroll bathed in a faint blue light as he scrawled the very last letter. That was that. They were officially divorced. Some part of Hermione was mildly glad she had never taken Ron’s last name, it made the process easier on both of them. 

 

“I’m sure she would,” Hermione couldn’t help but smile as she stood up, fixing her jacket, “I wish you the best of luck, Ron.” She meant it, from the bottom of her heart, she wanted the best for him. They had been through too much together for her heart to hold any bitterness toward him. 

 

“Same to you, ‘Mione. I hope you can find someone who can give you what you need.”

 

Hermione’s smile was strained, her thoughts immediately going to Pansy. She nodded, trying not to let her mind race. “Me too,” she whispered before turning to go. 

 

_________________________________

  
  


The  _ Daily Prophet  _ article didn’t do much for the rumors. Before they’d met their end by a well placed Incendio, Hermione’s dining room table had been taken up by a sizable pile of owl correspondence ranging from hate mail, marriage proposals, and what felt like  _ ancient  _ clippings of the article Rita Skeeter had written about her in her fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione hadn’t left the house for nearly a week, only going back and forth between home and the Spellcraft Institute. Her flat was warded to the teeth so to say that coming home one evening and seeing Draco Malfoy sitting on her couch completely uninvited was a bit of a shock. 

 

“Granger,” he greeted the moment she’d walked in, one leg crossed over the other as he leaned back elegantly on her sofa. He raised a perfectly arched blonde eyebrow at her and stared intently, his grey eyes boring into her as if he were trying to set her on fire by sheer force of will.

 

“Draco…” Hermione stared at Draco critically. He wanted something. He wouldn’t have been there otherwise. If the murder in his gaze was anything to go by, Hermione was willing to bet all the money in her fault that it had something to do with Pansy. 

 

“Ahh, so you do recognize your friends, fabulous to know. Harry and I were growing concerned. Perhaps that bookish brain of yours could recall that Pansy is your friend as well? Regardless of whether you regret munching on each other’s fannies or whatever it is you lesbians do,” Draco waved his hand dismissively, he didn’t want nor need to know the sordid details “she’s still your friend and if you’re going to just disappear out of her life you could bloody well pluck up the Gryffindor courage and tell her so!” Draco stormed past her, glaring daggers at her as he made his way to the door, slammed it behind him hard enough to make the pictures on the wall rattle, and was gone without another word. 

Hermione’s flat felt empty and silence in the wake of Draco’s outburst. She’d been so worried about feeling as if she’d crossed a line with Pansy that she’d never once thought about how Pansy may have been holding up the past few months. If Draco was angry enough to break into her apartment just to yell at her...it couldn’t be good. Without thinking, Hermione rushed out the door and sprinted down the stairs. 

 

She had to talk to Pansy. Finally. 

 

_________________________________

 

“You daft bastard! I told you not to get involved!” Pansy was all but screaming. Draco had stormed into her apartment, griping about how much of an idiot Hermione was for leaving Pansy high and dry. The entire re-telling of events was nothing but an over-the-top, overly dramatic, Queen sized hissy fit. 

 

“You’re my best friend! If you think I’m going to let Granger break your heart and disappear without a trace just because she and Harry are best friends, you have clearly forgotten whom you’re dealing with and may or may not require attention from St.Mungos. She’s being an arsehole and I can’t stand to see you hurt!” 

 

Pansy couldn’t help but smile even if she was mad at him. Draco always had her best interest at heart, ever since they were little. When he’d found out how badly her parent’s had taken the news of her sexuality, he’d come over with a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine and a large box of outrageously hilarious muggle movies. They’d stayed up nearly til dawn, drunk off their arses, laughing and crying, and holding each other. He was a good friend, even when he was being a diva and a prat, and sticking his pointy, pointy nose in where it doesn’t belong.  

 

“The nerve of that bushy haired, buck toothed, brainy, bookish bint, hurting  _ my  _ Pansy,” Draco fumed, pacing the length of Pansy’s kitchen. A sharp knock at the door stopped Pansy before she could remind Draco that Hermione hadn’t been ‘buck toothed’ ever since that day Snape had absolutely humiliated her. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she padded over to the front door, peeking through the peephole. 

 

“Looks like you got through to her, darling. She’s come to tell me off in person, I suppose.”

 

Draco scowled, his entire face twisting up as if he’d ate something violently sour “I’ll give you some privacy,” he walked over to the fireplace and snatched up a handful of floo powder. “But if you want my advice, I say ‘hex her tits off,’” he stepped inside and vanished in a swirl of green flames, leaving Pansy staring at her front door. 

 

“Pansy, please open the door,” Hermione’s pleas were muffled through the wood but Pansy could hear the urgency loud and clear. Sighing softly, she opened the door and was practically tackled, her arms full of Hermione. Her heart soften immediately, a contented sigh escaping her the moment she was eclipsed by the faint smell of Hermione’s shampoo mingled with her perfume. She smelled divine. After so many months of absence, having Hermione in her arms again, Pansy nearly forgot that she was mad at her. When the thought crossed her mind, she untangled herself from Hermione’s hold and pushed her away, going behind her to close the front door and lean against it. 

 

“Three months, one week, two days, darling. That’s how long you’ve left me high and dry without so much as a ‘hello’ so do spare me the sentiments.” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the old emotional armor she’d had to don every day during her years at Hogwarts slip firmly and familiarly into place. Hermione hurt her, left her. She couldn’t allow herself to be swayed again. 

 

“I know,” Hermione shook her head, running a hand through her curls. “I heard everything Draco said, I’ve been a bint. I’ve been selfish and foolish and,” Hermione stepped forward tentatively, desire and longing and fire burning in her gut. She stepped forward until she was pressing Pansy up against the door, their breath mingling together as they stared each other dead in the eye. “I don’t want to be without you,” Hermione whispered, trailing her finger tip down a tanned cheek, her lips less than an inch away from Pansy’s. 

 

“You’re my best friend,” Hermione continued, her finger continuing down Pansy’s throat, watching the way she swallowed, hard and nervous. 

 

“I have been a shitty friend lately,” she splayed out her fingers as she trailed her fingers over the curve of Pansy’s breast, stepping closer until Pansy’s thigh was between her legs “maybe that’s because I don’t think I can be just your friend anymore, Pansy.” Hermione’s voice was low and husky, a want and need so deep consuming her she felt as though she barely knew who she was anymore. Was this what it felt like to fully indulge in her feelings for the beautiful woman beneath her? She’d never felt so wild and untamed before, so close to a dangerous, seductive place within herself. She wanted more of it. She wanted Pansy to want more of it. 

 

“You left,” Pansy whispered, hating how petulant she sounded. She was mad at Hermione, damn it, but it didn’t change the fact that she wanted Hermione to make her come more than anything. Hermione always filled her with so much  _ want.  _

 

“I know,” Hermione crooned, soft, sympathetic, yet dark and predatory, like a cat releasing its prey and giving it a false sense of security before pouncing again. Just the sound of it made Pansy’s toes curl. She felt trapped and she hated how much she loved it. 

 

“I’ve been absolutely awful to you,” Hermione conceded, trailing firm, tiny kisses along the side of Pansy’s neck, swirling her tongue over her earlobe before she nipped at it. She loved the way Pansy arched her body into hers when she did it. The soft suppressed moan was intoxicating and the way Pansy bit her lip, face flushed, chest heaving, made Hermione want her more. She just wanted to show Pansy just how much she wanted her, had always secretly wanted her, would keep wanting her…

 

“I’m going to make it better,” Hermione slipped her hand down the front of Pansy’s trousers easily, swirling her finger over Pansy’s clit languidly “do you want me to make it better?” she whispered into Pansy’s ear, her finger working in slow, teasing circles. 

 

“Y-yes!” Pansy hissed, her hips bucking in an attempt to force more pressure. Growling faintly, Pansy grabbed Hermione by the front of her shirt and smashed their lips together in a frustrated bruising kiss, rolling her hips over Hermione’s finger quickly. 

 

“Fuck me, Granger,” she demanded “it’s the least you can do for making me wait all these ye-” Pansy’s words were choked off by an obscene moan, Hermione’s fingers plunging into her tight, wet heat swiping her mind clear of all coherent thought. She braced herself against the wall, some part of her mystified by how wet she was from one simple kiss, and the other part of her knowing only that she wanted more, more, and more of this. Hermione was here, with her. Maybe they had complicated things, maybe they had wrecked their friendship, Pansy wasn’t sure. All she knew was that with Hermione fucking her mercilessly into her front door, it was hopefully the start of something new. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to every single person who has read, left kudos, commented, and liked this short little fic. Your support means so much to me.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! I'm still new to the whole drabble/one shot thing so I can only hope they get better in time. If you enjoyed this, please drop me a comment or a kudos so I know if this is actually worth a damn and something I should continue. This has not been beta read and it will undoubtedly have errors that I'll fix as I catch them. I'm more concerned with getting the content up because when things hit me on a whim my brain tends to work in quick succession and if I don't work fast half the ideas will fizzle out before I write them out.


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